The Harbinger's Grasp
by Fifth
Summary: ME3 Re-imagined. A fallen, ailing Shepard must rise from his failures to complete a dark, final mission. But as his will falters and enemies hide in unexpected places, can his allies give him the strength to defeat the Reapers?


**T**he **H**arbinger's **G**rasp

By Fifth

**A/N – Introduction: Hey, everyone. Just like a lot of you, I was disappointed with the ending. For me, it didn't really seem to fit in with the tone of the game, and was a bit too Deus-Ex for my taste.**

**I wanted to re-write Mass Effect 3 to how I saw fit, and as a whole, this story won't be as "epic" so to speak, as it deals with a darker Shepard who had lost half his team in the Collector Base. He won't be solving all the conflicts in the galaxy. I wanted to give his final mission a very covert ops feel, kind of like the Shadow Broker DLC. This would also give the storyline a leaner feel and wouldn't mess up pacing because of too many details.**

**A lot of the plot points from ME3 will be there, but they've been reimagined (and possibly reorganized). I reimagined what the Crucible was, as well as how many people are joining Shepard. I wanted to really flesh out his relationship with a few key characters, as well as introduce a new character or two who will be great foils for him.**

**Think of Shepard as a fallen hero who has to rise again.**

**The overall concept for the story was something I wrote long ago, but never went back to because I got too few reviews. I've rewritten it, and hope you guys enjoy it. I had so much fun writing this chapter, I hope you guys have as much fun reading it. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Mistiming<strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>And when it finally happens we pretend to act surprised."<em>

_- Shepard_

* * *

><p><strong>SSV Normandy SR-2 – One Year Ago<strong>

He took a deep breath. The music from his alarm clock played ambient progressive house music to drown out the hum of the Normandy. Shepard sat at his bedside and ran his hand along the fabric of the bed. Smooth. For now, it was quiet, and he imagined everyone on the ship was taking their time before they made their last move. He gazed out the window into space. Cold, comforting space.

_"John?"_

_ He turned around and was greeted with a hand rubbing his hair. A chuckle soon followed._

_ "Haven't gone to sleep yet?"_

_ The young boy shook his head. "I wanted to look at the stars."_

_ "Are the other boys not playing nice?"_

_ Shepard look up at his caretaker and gave an indifferent shrug. She slightly frowned._

_ "It's going to get harder, you know," she said to him. "You're all getting older."_

_ John nodded, looking up at the night sky. At this time of night, most of the lights in the city were turned off to soften light pollution. These were the only hours where the stars were available, and the orphanage had a pretty good view from its courtyard._

_ "I'm going to the stars one day," Shepard replied._

_ His caretaker didn't reply. She knew where all the boys at the orphanage were going. Right to the streets. But he didn't care._

"John?"

Shepard looked over his shoulder and laid eyes on a yawning Miranda Lawson, who looked up at him with a warm smile. It was so different to see her in this fashion, as she usually donned a professional demeanor, as well as a coldness that often repelled most men. He reached down and caressed her on the cheek.

"I'm here. Go back to sleep," he said.

She pulled the sheets in and snuggled in the bed.

"Something bothering you?"

"Just contemplating."

Shepard never let anyone in too close. For someone whose legend inspired so many, there was much stress and expectation placed upon him. His men were looking up to him, and he knew that not everyone would be coming back.

"It's only going to get harder," she muttered. "The more you think about it."

"In three hours, we're going to suit up," he replied. "I have three hours left before I lead everyone to hell."

Miranda's hand came out and lightly grasped his arm.

"Let's make those three hours count," she winked.

They were closing in on the Omega 4 Relay. Shepard glanced out the window into space once again. She sat up and kissed him on the shoulder, then went to his ear.

"John," she said in a most comforting voice.

There was so much to lose.

"Don't be afraid."

He lost more than half his crew.

* * *

><p><strong>Eastern Canada – Earlier<strong>

The airship cruised over the ruins. In the distance towered a behemoth that seared the landscape with its powerful lasers, stomping entire buildings to rubble like brittle clay. Ships that faced the Reaper attempted to circle it, aiming to keep a strict perimeter, waiting for an opening. Below, tanks peppered the beast with cannon fire, unable to scratch its thick, impenetrable surface. Shepard looked at the men on the airship. They were visibly afraid, their eyes widened with petrification, their skin as pale as the dead, their bodies motionless like zombies. Everyone on Earth had been dealing with the same realization for some time now.

The Reapers were here.

Shepard kept silent under his hooded cloak and that shielded his face from the others. He had to see for himself. Next to him was Jack, who had been serving at his side for some time now. She had her eyes closed, probably meditating as the airship moved them towards the Niagara Falls underground base, where he'd be meeting his superior.

Just then, vibrations startled the men as bullets rained upon the transport, some of them passing through the shields and penetrating the hull. A few men on the tail end of the ship were hit and instantly died, which frightened the others into a panic. Over the intercom, the commanding officer ordered them to keep cool.

Next to all the men were civilians. At least the ones that they could pick up to take with them.

"We're going to land, aren't we?" Jack asked, brushing her hair aside.

Shepard remained motionless. "Just keep your gun at the ready."

The ship was descending.

"Alright, everyone. Listen up!" the commanding officer shouted, walking past the men. "This area's too hot, and to make sure we don't get our asses shot from the sky, we're stopping to make repairs. In the meantime, Buzzard 2 and 3 are going to take out AA guns situated to the east of us. Once we land, secure a tight perimeter! Everyone else just remain calm until we get repairs done. Got it?"

The civilians were frightened. Helpless lambs to the slaughter.

A large anti-materiel bullet suddenly pierced through the cockpit and took the pilot's head off, causing him to slouch forward and move the ship downwards. All the civilians on the ship panicked, their screams synchronizing with the alarming siren that indicated their fall.

"Brace for impact!"

The other pilot guided the airship onto the street and it landed with medium impact, skidding across the concrete. Some people who weren't in their seats were thrown around like stuffed dolls. As soon as it halted, Shepard unbuckled his straps and made his way past the civilians and towards the commanding officer.

"I'll take security from here, Captain."

"By order of the Defense Council, you are not to be more than twenty yards from my presence, Shepard," the captain ordered. The other soldiers got out of their seats and readied their weapons.

"Opening doors!" the surviving pilot announced. The doors at the end of the medium-sized aircraft lifted open, and the first things to enter were wind, rain, and bullets. The first three men in the back were mowed down by rifle fire, prompting the ship to immediately deploy its smokescreen, which wouldn't last in the heavy rain.

"Jesus!" the captain remarked, shielding his face. He seemed rather green, and Shepard was tempted to leverage that.

"How old are you, son?" he asked.

The captain looked at him. "I…I just got promoted last week."

Jack barged in between them. "Do you want to fucking die?"

"N-no."

"Then _stay here_. I'll set up the perimeter. You just keep these people safe," Shepard said to him.

Most of the men were already out of the ship, firing away at the various husks and cannibals in the distance, most of whom were situated atop half-fallen buildings and fortifications. Support gunners suppressed the enemies and gave the others room to maneuver out, but they were still awaiting orders.

"Captain!" Shepard yelled.

The younger man reluctantly nodded.

Shepard turned away and stepped out the door and towards the group of soldiers who had already taken refuge underneath a gray sky that cast a depressive, muted atmosphere onto the battlefield. Their enemies were watching carefully behind cover; not too far in the distance but amongst a distorted watery haze, patiently waiting to claim their lives. Husks limped aimlessly on the broken streets while cannibals fired their rounds. In the darkness of fallen rubble, he suspected, was a sniper or two—the ones who crashed the ship with as little as a rifle round.

"What's up with the Captain?" one of the corporals exclaimed, befuddled. Shepard came and hid beside them, his assault rifle in hand.

"I'm in charge now," Shepard stated. "I need your men to take the left flank and relieve those cannibals of their fortifications. You, support gunner. You'll stay here and provide covering fire for the ship, got it?"

The support gunner fired off a few rounds. He looked over his shoulder.

"What?"

"Stay here!" Shepard yelled at him. But bullets hailed their way and they ducked under the cover, which consisted of piles of rubble.

"WHAT?" the machine-gunner asked again.

Shepard shielded his face from the rain. "Stay—"

A rifle round zipped by and hit his neck, causing him to fall back onto the dirt. The men shouted in expletives and pleaded for the medic. After taking his breath, Shepard wiped some blood off his face and turned to the next man.

"It's your turn to take the machinegun."

The man he talked to was frightened beyond movement. There was no point in talking sense into him.

"I'll take it, sir!" one of the others volunteered.

Shepard nodded, then addressed the rest of the men. They had to forget about what had just happened and keep their heads in this, otherwise they'd all be dead.

"Alright. We hold out until the repairs are finished or the ground units get here, got it?"

He aimed over the cover as the newly appointed support gunner laid covering fire down the street. He spotted a few cannibals in the distance and squeezed a few rounds off, managing to kill a couple of them. There was probably more, but he didn't want to be open to the sniper that was in the area. Shepard turned to Jack.

"You got the binos on you?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Tag that sniper for me."

Jack stepped around cover and found a safe place to scan the area, lying on her side and scanning the area ahead. The team Shepard had commanded moved around the left flank and began firing on the Reaper team ahead of them. Meanwhile, Shepard went to his earpiece and attempted to make contact with the captain watching the civilians inside the ship.

"Captain. How're the repairs?"

_"We're leaking fuel. Patching it up will take some time, but the civvies here are getting restless. What's it look like out there?"_

"A sniper. Possibly one or two squads and several husks. Let's make those repairs fast before reinforcements arrive, yeah?"

_"Okay, Commander."_

"I'm not commander anymore," Shepard told him. "Let's just focus on the job."

Another sniper round sounded off and caused Jack to grunt. The tactical binoculars in her hands shattered and the round nearly took her head with it.

"Jack!" he shouted.

"Agh, shit! Alright," Jack called to him, rolling out of her cover. "He's tagged. Get that son of a bitch."

Shepard turned to the man on the machinegun. "Lay me some suppressive fire."

He nodded. "Covering fire!"

His Kuwashii Visor singled out the sniper from inside a building and Shepard took his shots, a few of them hitting the wall, and some surely going into the window. From here, it was hard to tell if he had hit the sniper. After a moment, the support gunner stopped as the men who entered through the left flank stormed the ruins ahead, one of them going up towards the sniper's area. The next few minutes were spent hearing infrequent gunshots and growling beasts. They were clearing the area.

"Husks!" Jack claimed.

A few of them appeared from their forward-right and they subsequently applied fire. Several of them were cut down but there were many. With her biotics, Jack managed to send a shockwave down the line that knocked the rest of them off their heels. One of the marines guarding the airship opened fire with the heavy machinegun that was set up on the right flank. The others he had sent on the left flank stopped making noise.

"Status on the fortification?" Shepard asked. "Did we get the sniper?"

Some static.

_"—Oorah, sir. We're all good here."_

Some relief. "Alright, corporal. Repairs are almost finished. Get back here and we'll wait it out."

Jack seemed distressed, and looked towards the distance. Squinting, she located a single red light. "Shepard."

He was busy contacting the captain inside the airship. "Captain. Status report."

No sound. The red light turned into a red line.

"_Shepard,_" she urged.

"—not now."

Stressed, Jack grunted and powered up two protective glowing orbs in each hand, then squeezed them together. When the pressure was great enough and light could be seen escaping her palms, she exhaled and spread her arms wide. The result was a large barrier that was incredibly well-protected. Shepard let go of his earpiece and looked where she was looking, and the red line suddenly carved its way towards them.

"Look out!" she shouted.

It cut through the ground and obliterated the men at the sniper fortification, barely missing the ship. The barrier she created shielded them from the following debris as well as dust. The Reaper in the distance knew where they were. Shepard was somewhat awestruck, gazing far past the town and observing the towering behemoth, its mighty stature nearly indestructible to the battleships engaging it.

He looked at his comrade. "Thanks, Jack."

She powered down the barrier. "I always save your ass."

"I'm very thankful for it," he smirked. "My ass, I mean."

Their earpieces buzzed.

_"Commander. The civilians are panicking! I need you here, now!"_

As he heard those words, he noticed several people breaking out of the airship, attempting to run for their lives, surely convinced that the airship was not the safest place here.

"We're all going to die!" one of them, a middle-aged man, shouted.

"Idiots!" Jack shouted.

Shepard watched at least eight people scramble from the ship, heading off in different directions. His ear suddenly picked up a dropping sound—he guessed they were mortar placements. The building next to them ate an explosion which sent dirt bursting into the air. Shepard shielded himself from it and felt the others hitting the ground near the ship, one by one. From the corner of his eye, one last pair of civilians struggled to leave the ship: a mother and her son, who was probably not more than eight. As one of the soldiers tried holding her back, she wrenched her way out and began sprinting with her child in her arms, crossing past Shepard's right flank. Even Jack had noticed, and she traded glances with Shepard.

"Protect the ship," he said. "I'm getting that kid back."

Jack was about to protest, but understood, and nodded her head.

The mother and child disappeared into an alleyway, but he was determined to find them. Shepard sprinted past the support gunner and into the narrow passage, which seemed as if it would hide the two rather well. The mortar strikes could find them, though, and he didn't want that happening. Shepard managed to catch glimpses between broken buildings and spot them struggling their way through broken steps that led towards an open street.

"Hey. HEY," he shouted after them.

He gave chase and stormed up the steps after them, but as he was about to exit to the street, a mortar crashed in front of him, exploding a vehicle that had been parked next to the sidewalk. Coughing and regaining his composure, he tried to gauge where the parent and child had gone to, and spotted them down the open street. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. Shepard sprinted after them along the sidewalk. The mother was terrified and her stamina was running thin. From behind them, rifle shots sounded off and rounds dug themselves onto the concrete just a yard or two away from their legs. Shepard looked over his shoulder and spotted an armored creature holding a rifle. Its head looked very similar to a husk.

"OVER HERE," he shouted. "COME BACK."

She turned her head and looked at Shepard. Another mortar round fell about twenty yards away. The mother paused for just a second and decided to shift her path of movement, which gave the shooter just enough time to squeeze off another round. The bullet came and passed through her calf. She stumbled and dropped the little boy. From there, everything went silent. Shepard froze.

The boy fell to the ground and stood back up, but unable to move. So scared. So very scared. He met eyes with Shepard. Those beautiful blue eyes, just like Miranda's.

Shepard reached out to him and began taking one step forward, hoping his kinetic barrier would defend against the gunfire. He inhaled and prepared to sprint. The boy's petrified expression stood still. Shepard closed in to pick him up.

A mortar round hit. Shepard flipped backwards and slammed face-first onto the concrete. Shields down. Lights out. He could feel his heart wrenching beneath his chest. His veins turning purple.

_Don't be afraid._

* * *

><p><strong>Niagara Falls Underground Base – Present<strong>

The lights turned on with a low buzz. Shepard was momentarily blinded and shielded his eyes. They were well below ground now, and from his seat he could feel vibrations shaking the ground. Tanks mobilizing. Airships taking off. He had been rescued by the ground troops that eventually caught up with their fallen airship. Lieutenant James Vega had brought in the backup and took out the mortar crews that decimated the fleeing civilians, which seemed more like an act of cruelty by the Reapers than a battlefield tactic.

It's been three weeks since the invasion.

The door in front of him hissed and opened with two guards coming in, followed by Admiral David Anderson, who immediately expressed disgust at the way Shepard was contained.

"_Get those cuffs off him_," he snapped at one of the guards. "That's a living, breathing hero sitting in that chair."

One of the guards scurried over and powered off Shepard's handcuffs, allowing him movement of his arms. He had been detained ever since the invasion and was lost amongst the chaos. This was the first time he'd seen the Admiral in weeks, which only meant that the Reapers' surprise attack had been keeping them on the defensive for this long. Since he'd been held by the Alliance, he wasn't able to do much and was moved around a lot from town to town. From what he had heard, the batarian home world, Khar'shan, suffered first. Anderson, dressed in battle fatigues, removed his dusty officer's hat and tossed it onto the table in front of Shepard, as well as a tablet that he had carried in.

Shepard looked down at the hat, then back up at the admiral. "Is it too late to say I told you so?"

Anderson scowled at the former commander's remark. Shepard had probably guessed that the entire defense council was wiped out, as well as their base in Canada. The west coast had probably suffered, too, and most likely DC. It depended on the Reapers' knowledge of Earth's populations. The admiral then scoffed.

"Is it too late to say I told you so…" Shepard paused, "_sir_?"

"Enough with your shit," Anderson said. "They should've listened to you."

He tapped his fingers on the steel table. "What's the situation up above?"

"London and San Francisco is taking the brunt of the damage. New York has sustained too many losses."

"What about our base in Canada?"

"The defense committee has been eliminated. We barely got out alive."

"What has our almighty Council done about this so far?"

Anderson sat down. It seemed like he hadn't taken a break in a while to catch his breath.

"They're holding up, barely. The Turians have already been attacked and Palaven has suffered losses in the millions."

"At least it isn't tens of millions," Shepard remarked coldly. "And the Reapers? How has the fleet fared against them?"

"We've figured out how to kill a few of them, but they're crushing us slowly. We're on the defensive and won't hold out forever," Anderson informed. "The Reapers are in the hundreds, scattered throughout the galaxy. Not much, but they're practically invincible."

There was a slight pause in the room as both men considered the situation that humanity was in, each one having his own thoughts on the matter.

"I'm sorry, David," Shepard told him. "I should've done more."

"If they weren't so damn stubborn," his superior replied. "It all looks so stupid in hindsight."

"Forget hindsight. We don't have much time. What can I do?"

Anderson walked over to the holographic projector and powered it up. The projector whirred up to a start and a slightly broken image of Admiral Hackett appeared, his arms held behind his back. Though he was probably going through a lot because of the invasion, Shepard couldn't notice much weakness in Hackett, a trait that was likely carved over years of experience. Immediately, Shepard stood from his seat, ready to salute him.

"No formalities, Commander. But thanks," Hackett told him.

Shepard nodded and sat back down in his chair.

"With all due respect, Admiral, I'm not a commander anymore," Shepard responded.

"You're being reinstated," the gruff admiral assured. "What's more important now is what you have to do."

"We can't just fight it out?"

Anderson gestured towards the tablet in front of Shepard that he had brought in. "Take a look."

He powered it on and glanced over the notes and photographs. The Prothean Archives immediately stood out.

"You're going to Mars," Hackett directed. "Dr. T'soni will meet you at the Prothean Archives. She has discovered something interesting that could leverage our chances in this war."

"Leverage by how much?"

The admiral shrugged. "Possibly everything."

"Well, shit," he said, sitting back in his seat. "What about the Citadel Council? Useless as they usually are, what's the state of their union?"

"It's being worked on."

"You'll have to pay Udina a visit soon afterwards, Shepard," Anderson told him. "I know you don't want to see him, but it's necessary. You don't have to do much for the Council. Just stand there. They should remember why standing together is so important."

Shepard took a breath. "An empire would stand a better chance than this diplomatic mess."

Hackett ignored his comment. "I'll contact you after you've finished your recon on Mars. Anderson will fill you in with the details. Hackett out."

With a blip, he disappeared from the hologram, leaving Anderson and Shepard in the room. Shepard stretched his neck and somewhat slouched in his chair.

"So when are we going?"

Anderson shook his head. "I'm not going with you, Shepard."

"You're probably more needed here," he said, vocalizing his thoughts.

"We've got the Normandy set up in the hangar already," the admiral told him. "Lieutenant Moreau will meet you there, as well as Lieutenant Nought and Lieutenant Vega."

It was strange to hear Jack referred to as Lieutenant. If he had been asked a year ago, he wouldn't believe Jack would ever join the Alliance ranks, though she did make it clear that she'd never serve with anyone other than Shepard. After seeing the Collector Base, she had this drive to see everything through to the end. Either the Reapers would be stopped, or she would.

"What about Mordin Solus?" Shepard asked. "He was still with me after the Omega 4 Relay."

Dr. Solus served a special role after the Normady's venture into the Bahak system, serving as Shepard's personal doctor and researcher.

"From what I hear, Dr. Solus is on the Citadel helping out refugees that have been pouring in," Anderson said. "Is it about the shots?"

There was a silence. Shepard wasn't able to hide it for long, but the admiral had given him space on the subject. He took a few seconds to think some more.

"I'll be sure to stop by the Citadel," Shepard told him.

"Whatever it is, you sure you don't need any help here?"

His look darted just slightly. "It's nothing the Alliance can do as of now. I'll be fine."

Anderson crossed his hands together and sat down, trying to meet the Commander eye-to-eye. "We're all asking too much of you, Shepard."

"But you're asking. That's enough for me."

"Do you still think about your men?"

Kasumi, Grunt, Jacob, Samara, Zaeed, and Miranda. Their names were written on the memorial that had been placed on the Normandy's crew deck just before it was taken away from him, right next Kaiden and Wrex and several others. And recently, Thane had passed away from his Kepral's Syndrome, too. Shepard had received word from his son. It was a suicide mission, he'd always tell himself. They all knew what they had signed up for, he'd always tell himself. Death was not just a possibility, but a probability. It was to be expected. He'd always tell himself.

But it never came easy, and it was never quite the same after that mission.

"Imagine going into hell with the people you care about. A lot of risks. We take them anyway. And when it finally happens we pretend to act surprised."

There was only so much a person could handle. And, to think, many more will die in the coming battles against the Reapers.

"If we survive this," Shepard stated, "I think I'm done taking lives."

"This will be the last mission I give you," Anderson said. "You won't be commanding armies. You won't move fleets. It's too late for that. You'll weave in the chaos—to change shape in the eyes of your enemies. You will eliminate our adversaries without them knowing. Your mission is to be carried out in the shroud of space, and it well end with them knowing that it was you who ended them. You, and warriors of your choice. Godspeed, Commander."

* * *

><p><strong>Alliance Luxury Station Agathon IV<strong>

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She didn't like dressing up for occasions much, mostly because she was never used to doing so. But, Udina did make a note of how stunning she looked, which bolstered her comfort in wearing the black dress. Her job was clear, anyhow. She was supposed to keep an eye on the councilmembers and maintain security during the small gathering which was supposed to boost unity in the galaxy. Important representatives of each government were here, so the risk was quite high. Ashley Williams had always heard of these luxurious wartime parties, but going to one was a completely different experience in itself. It was hard to be vocal about her opinion here now that the purpose of this social gathering was more apparent to her. Before, it'd be much easier to run her mouth about these sorts of things from the safety of the barracks, but now that she was elevated to Spectre status, things were different.

"Right this way, Mr. Udina," one of the bodyguards directed him.

She was not like the other bodyguards. Her primary job was more important, and it made her much more alert, despite the ship flying with stealth activated. As soon as the doors opened, she found most of the eyes in the room glancing in her direction. It made her a little insecure.

Unlike the Citadel, this station was an Alliance construct, and going by more human traditional themes, it carried a late 18th century feel with it. The architecture was reminiscent of the White House back home, and after hearing the news about Earth those few weeks ago, it was a bittersweet feeling. She missed home.

Immediately, people flocked over to Udina to begin speaking with him.

"Here they come," he told her. Then, he turned to meet one of the old turian representatives. "Ah, Graleon. It's been too long."

He and the council had come here to make sure that the galaxy would be willing to stand together, though he often told her in secret that he'd like to get more help to Earth than anywhere else. She agreed with him. Inside, people of all races could be found. Salarians, Turians, Asari, even Krogans and what's left of the Batarians. She imagined that many a favor would be traded for another favor and promises would have to be made and kept after this war. And most of these politicians were stubborn. Ashley wondered if it would be too late when their stubbornness finally waned and they decided to come together. Must people be pushed to desperation before they decide to help one another?

"Mr. Udina," Auerus Graleon greeted. "I hear you're working hard these days."

The representative seemed to be resentful of Udina's presence, and he was accompanied by a younger turian man. Probably an advisor; he carried himself with pride.

"Is this your mistress?" Graleon asked. "I'm sorry, miss. Your name?"

Udina chuckled. "No. This is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams. Spectre."

The turian representative's eyes widened. "Oh. I suppose you like to keep a gun close."

The councilman gave an obligatory laugh. These politicians certainly like to jab each other, she thought.

"This is my advisor, Lukil Gaivus. Formerly on the board of Primarch Victus."

Ashley and Udina shook the turian's hand. "Formerly?"

"He determined that his talents were needed elsewhere."

Udina nodded with a hum. Was this unusual?

"Lieutenant Commander, why don't you go get a drink or two while I discuss the war with our friend here?"

Ashley looked at him and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Miss," Gaivus, the advisor, voiced. "You don't mind if I join?"

Ashley quickly glanced at Udina, then back at the turian. "Please."

The war was on everyone's lips. Every other word that came from their well-fed mouths was Reaper, and they discussed it like a disease—a cancer. Though the Reapers only numbered in the hundreds, they had done much to larger worlds, among them being Thessia, Palaven, Sur'Kesh. Despite this, as forces mounted to battle the Reapers, the war seems as though it could be one of endurance. The Citadel's war analysts predicted deaths to slow at around one to two years of the war's development, and with the galaxy's various populations, could last up to decades if need be. She did not want to bring a child into a galaxy where thousands were being exterminated daily, and didn't want to wait decades to have one.

She walked over to the bar with Gaivus.

"Americano on the rocks, please," she asked the bartender.

"Sure thing, miss," the bartender nodded. "And for you, sir?"

"Anything you recommend?" he asked.

She shot him a smirk. "The last turian I drank with couldn't hold his liquor."

"Navy?" he asked with a slight grin. Ashley nodded. "Don't go away, then. I'm from the Fleet myself. Orbiter Martini. Shaken."

"What exactly does an advisor do other than advise?" she asked after receiving her drink.

"I suppose you can say that I'm a guy who makes the bigger guy do what is exactly necessary."

Ashley took a sip. "Oh. And what's necessary?"

"Research," he simply stated. "I think the Reapers can be defeated if we can contain one and dissect it."

"That's a big if."

"Maybe so," the advisor replied. "But understanding them is more important than blowing them to bits, I say."

She tilted her head just slightly at his statement. The turian stance as she heard from Garrus was that all Reapers were to be engaged and destroyed immediately. And thus far, they've managed to destroy one, though at the cost of a chunk of the fleet.

"You must be popular with the Hierarchy."

Gaivus received his drink and sipped casually. "If you're referring to my demotion from the former Primarch's advisor position to the representative's, it was by choice. If need be, I'd move to other districts once my work here is done."

"You're dividing people's opinions?" she innocently asked. "Isn't that bad for Palaven?"

"We all have to do what we feel is right. Even a Spectre yourself must understand that one day," he said to her. From halfway across the room, his superior waved him over. "Excuse me, miss. It was nice to meet you. I'll see you around."

She nodded and watched him leave, her mind somewhat perplexed by his viewpoint. It was agitating that in the face of war such as this, there'd be such men who would hope to divide his government. Her grandfather would often tell her that war was the time for power grabs. Perhaps she was watching it firsthand. It made her stomach turn since it was against the beliefs she was raised to respect. As soon as she turned back towards the bar, a man in a tuxedo came up between her and an older gentleman, somewhat ignoring her as he leaned against the bar.

"Bartender," he said. "Sailor Jerry's. On the rocks."

Ashley scowled at the statement. Sailor Jerry's was a drink from the old days; it was the staple rum of the Alliance Army, noted for its high, 92 proof stomach burning sensations. The story behind it was that the Army would drink it out of superiority to the Navy, which, in her opinion, was ridiculous since the Navy did much more work than the Army ever would.

Her frown caught his eye, though, and he returned her glance.

"Navy?" he asked. She nodded. "Ew. Go away."

Ashley looked away and chuckled to herself. He seemed to be pretty upfront and possibly already drunk.

"Let me guess," she said. "You're down four of those already?"

He received his drink and began sipping away. "I might as well be. This is the tackiest party ever. Can't believe I agreed to come here."

Then, he took a moment and looked at her. The way her hair fell and how her skirt emphasized her athletic figure seemed to catch most of his attention. She felt his eyes move up and down her body, then to her lips.

"Though I suppose it isn't all bad," he finished.

It's been awhile since a man had made such an obvious pass at her. "You're sure you're not drunk?"

The man winced coolly. "Ouch. Don't think a man has to be drunk to appreciate you."

Nice one. She smiled to herself as he bypassed her first line of defense. It's definitely been awhile, and her skills at telling off men have certainly been rusty.

"How about a nice fuck off?" she then vocalized.

"That might be a little too nice," he told her, raising an eyebrow.

Ashley took a sip of her Americano and was thinking of what to say next.

"It's always a little more cruel to get to know someone just a bit, then tell them it was _nice to meet you, maybe I'll see you around_," he said. "Or, we can just introduce ourselves like normal people."

"Ashley Williams," she said. "Commander."

"Captain Terrence Kang," he smiled, shaking her hand.

She noticed that his eye contact was unflinching. Probably one of those overconfident types, but she played along.

"Well, Ashley Williams Commander. It was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you around."

Ashley had her mouth open. "Okay, that's not fair."

The army officer laughed.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I'm, uh, bodyguard to Ambassador Udina."

"Really?" he remarked. "You're council-appointed?"

"Spectre," she divulged.

"Wow. Fancy."

Ashley shook her head in disagreement. "Not really."

"Bodyguard isn't the most glamorous job, is it?"

Terrence leaned back just a bit, enough for her to notice a slight change in his energy. It made her want to reciprocate for some reason.

"It does help if the public servant representing your entire race might get a knife in the back," she shrugged. "But what about you? You're so loud, and sudden. You must be important."

"No," he assured with a chuckle, shaking his head. "No, no. Not at all. Like any soldier or Spectre or public servant, I'm greatly expendable."

"Meant to be used and thrown away?" Ashley finished his thought. "Like a condom."

He raised an eyebrow and sipped on his drink. "Your words."

To this, she giggled. He walked past her and grabbed the turian's drink, which was still sitting on the table.

"What was your friend drinking here?" he asked, holding it.

"Orbiter Martini."

Terrence smelled the drink before putting it back down, ignoring it completely. "Mm. Weird. Your job isn't that bad if it's full of tacky parties like these. At least you can drink it up like a real Navyman."

"Well, I do get to meet lots of people."

"I do, too. It's pretty nice."

"Yeah, I suppose."

A pause.

He followed up on her statement. "Yeah, I suppose, _but_…"

"No one special so far," she said with a shrug, looking down at her glass. "Mostly same-type people of the political nature."

With a squint, he indicated his confusedness. "There had to be at least a handful. A rich socialite here, a dashing space officer there…"

"I've had both before," Ashley told him. "Just not the right time. They didn't work out."

"Me, too. Except both were female. Unless_ you_ had females, too, which is perfectly hot and very pleasing to a man's imagination."

She cracked a smile, and sensed some warmth from his presence. The voices in the room tuned out as they were sucked into the conversation they had found themselves in. "A fun night here and there, and the next day, it's back to the job. The armor comes back on, and the same men who knew you sweetly would likely crumble in fear because of what you do."

He let those words sink in for a while longer before speaking.

"The universe works on mistiming—especially now, with the war," he said, drinking his Sailor Jerry's.

This change in tone caught her ear and she found herself paying attention. He put the empty glass on the bar and spun it on the smooth surface.

"There's never a convenient time to do something. And for busy ones like us, it's difficult. We let so many special others pass by, leaving only nostalgia. And too often, we only remember the bittersweet notion of a word not said. A road not taken. Depths not explored."

Ashley was listening to him intently. His words rolled off his tongue so easily, and she wasn't sure if it was just the alcohol or not, but she wanted to stick around a little longer.

"The timing can never be right," he smiled comfortingly. "Only people can."

As soon as he finished saying that, Advisor Gaivus returned and interrupted the two of them, clearing his throat loudly enough to break the moment. It seemed as though he'd been standing there for a while now, and Terrence met him with an apologetic smile for having not acknowledged him.

"You must be Orbiter Martini," he said to the advisor.

"Advisor Lukil Gaivus," the turian said, somewhat angry. "If you don't mind, I'd like some time with my friend here."

Ashley and the officer traded glances. He chuckled. "Of course you would."

"I suppose I really will have to see you around, Captain," she said to him as he backed away from the bar. "Come around the Citadel much?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Call me Gable."

"Gable," Ashley said with a nod, shaking his hand once again. The turian nudged his way in and grabbed the drink he had left behind.

"Well, advisor," Gable said. "She's all yours. I'll leave you with one of the wisest comparisons I've heard recently."

The turian gave him a somewhat expectant look, but the officer had a mischievous expression on his face. Ashley could feel something strange was going to happen.

"Soldiers and politicians are expendable. They're meant to be used and thrown away. Like condoms."

She rolled her eyes and looked away, embarrassed. The turian advisor nodded and looked like he was rationalizing the comment in his mind. Before they could reply, Gable backtracked.

"Oh. _Her words_," he said with a wink. He touched the advisor on the shoulder lightheartedly and left. "Give my regards to the Hierarchy."

When he left, it felt as though he took everything fascinating with him, and nothing in the room was as interesting anymore. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to find out who he was, or where he was stationed. She wanted to continue that conversation.

"I just had to come back," Gaivus said to her, taking a sip of his drink. "All this talk of politics has bored me to tears."

"Yeah, I'm bored, too," Ashley replied, looking away.

As the turian droned on, she noticed that Gable disappeared amongst the crowd and was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of him past the dance floor, making his way around the back of the krogan representatives. Then he disappeared again. Thinking back, she didn't remember there being any mention of any guests from Army showing up here. In fact, wasn't he supposed to be in uniform instead of a tux? She looked back to Gaivus.

"Hey," she said, cutting off the advisor. "Just out of curiosity, did you ever see the guest list?"

"I looked over it once or twice, yeah," the ambassador said with a cough.

"This is supposed to be a representatives' meeting. Was anyone from Alliance Army invited?"

Gaivus shook his head, and coughed again. She shot him a slightly bewildered look, but was more curious about where Gable had gone off to. The turian continued to cough some more, this time just a bit more violently. She felt something dampen her arm, and when she looked down, she noticed it was his blood, which painted blue spots as he continued to cough. Instantly, Ashley was taken aback and she retreated from the bar. The advisor continued to hack up blood onto the bar counter, and everyone nearby gasped with surprise and tremor. A woman next to him shouted for help, and the entire room looked in their direction, wondering what was happening. Ashley looked up at the glass of Orbiter Martini, and it was steaming. The feeling sent a shock down her spine, and she dropped her glass. Gaivus collapsed to the ground and laid on his back, and suddenly seized to breathe. Several of the bodyguards walked over and attempted to carry him out.

"Someone get him a medic!" a person shouted.

Ashley looked towards the crowd once again, and noticed a suited figure make his way out a door.

Captain Terrence Kang. Or was it Gable?

An assassin had just killed the ambassador, and she had been with him the entire time.

**Haha! I wanted to end the chapter on that note. As you can tell, I've taken a lot of liberties with the story as well as the general atmosphere of Mass Effect. I wanted the characters to feel more natural, and the fast-paced action more brutal. Gable is a character you're definitely going to see again.**

**Next chapter, Shepard will be going to Mars, but there might be a few surprises here and there in store for the characters. Hope you guys stay tuned. I'll be back soon.**


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